


All I Want For Solstice

by GhostOfTasslehoff



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Special, Drag Queen AU, Drag Queens, Drunken Flirting, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Naughty Lip Syncs, Secret Identity, Smoke and Mirrors verse, Unresolved Sexual Tension, inappropriate use of mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28284762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostOfTasslehoff/pseuds/GhostOfTasslehoff
Summary: In the final performance before winter solstice at the Honeybee Inn, Clara Skye ups the ante in a show-stopping number that puts significant pressure on Argenta Rhodea to live up to her opening act. After the show, with the help of some alcohol and lowered inhibitions, tensions rise in the House of Rhodea dressing room, when Clara lets slip her attraction to Argenta.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	All I Want For Solstice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skuldchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuldchan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Smoke and Mirrors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862735) by [skuldchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuldchan/pseuds/skuldchan). 



> This one shot is something I absolutely could not get out of my head, oh my goodness. It's compliant with chapter 24 (“Guns For Solstice”) of _Smoke and Mirrors_ , and while reading this story isn’t necessary to get the full experience of Smoke, I definitely recommend reading Smoke before you read this!
> 
> I've had so much fun beta reading for Smoke that getting to play around in the verse myself was an absolute joy. Thank you skuldchan for writing it! ♥

Waking up the morning of the year’s final performance at the Honeybee Inn was proving difficult for Cloud. He’d stayed awake far longer than was perhaps wise, practicing, putting the finishing touches and necessary tweaks on Clara’s look until she was satisfied—and he was _._ But as he half-dragged himself out of bed and muddled through his morning routine, he couldn’t help but wish that he had gotten a little more sleep. Or, alternatively, begged someone to switch shifts with him—but he didn’t want to start a precedent of doing that. It would be fine, he reasoned, stifling a yawn as he stumbled into the mess hall. His headphones went in immediately and he set his music to shuffle, letting the songs wake up his sleepy brain as he wandered on autopilot through the food line.

Cloud was standing at the coffee station when the familiar strains of a catchy synth intro filled his ears. He smiled to himself, dumping sugar into his coffee and stirring absently, lost in thought. It wasn’t the kind of music he normally gravitated towards, generally preferring more contemporary music, but it was a classic song that always made him think of his mother when he felt homesick—she had played it all the time while he was growing up. The loneliness and longing of the lyrics hit him harder now, as he tried to navigate on his own in two completely different worlds, but he also appreciated the hopeful note in the instrumental more than he had as a child. It was also the first song Clara had ever dared to play in the dressing room she shared with Argenta Rhodea, the night Argenta had made her stay late after their show to practice her makeup. Remembering the way that they had bonded over the song made him feel warm inside.

Cloud shook himself free of the memory, idly entertaining a fantasy of performing it onstage with Argenta, singing along under his breath as he made his way towards the table where his friends sat. He nodded to Giselle with a tiny smile as he settled beside her, ignoring the playful ribbing the others were currently engaged in. His reverie was interrupted a moment later by a loud “OW! What the fuck!” from Tomas, and he looked up sharply to find the man glaring at Giselle from across the table. He chanced a glance at her—she was staring daggers right back at Tomas.

Tugging one earbud out, Cloud asked with vague annoyance, “What the hell just happened?”

“She kicked me for—” Tomas started.

“Nothing,” Giselle interrupted, giving him a warning look. “Tomas was just being an ass and is going to stop.”

The implied ‘riiiiight?’ hung in the air between them for a blistering moment before Tomas scowled and slumped over his plate, stabbing petulantly at a piece of overcooked sausage. “Whatever, I thought it was funny.”

Cloud looked at Giselle questioningly, but she only sipped at her coffee and smiled behind the rim of her mug, seeming satisfied with herself. _Really?_ He shifted his gaze to Aleksandr, hoping that he would at least give him an explanation, and was only slightly mollified when his friend mouthed ‘later’ with an amused shake of his head. His face heated at the realization that, whatever Tomas had said, it was most likely something about him. Gods, he thought they had moved past this shit.

Cloud put his headphones in again with a pout, turning the volume down surreptitiously and shovelling food into his mouth. Sure enough, a moment later, he heard Tomas mutter across the table to Giselle, “C’mon, I wasn’t even being mean! I thought they used to be a thing.”

“Tomas, shut up.”

“He didn’t even fucking hear me!”

“Don’t make me kick you again.”

Cloud suppressed a sigh. He was so glad he didn’t have to work alongside Tomas these days, or the rest of the day might have been completely unbearable. _Ignore him. Just focus on tonight._ The thought cheered him immensely.

* * *

Argenta sat back from the mirror in frustration, letting out a disgruntled sigh. The room seemed far too quiet without Clara’s usual teasing and playful barbs, and Argenta was wound so tightly with nervous energy that trying to concentrate on anything other than Clara’s uncharacteristic absence was becoming a chore. Her makeup required no touching up, her look was already flawless, and Andi had been less-than-subtle about making himself scarce before the shows to give her and Clara time to bond. She thought they had grown closer, but had Clara actually been so upset over her friend last time that she’d changed her mind? Decided to stop opening the show? The girl had seemed to be looking forward to tonight, but then why wasn’t she here?

Nails tapping irritably against the countertop, Argenta glanced up at the clock again. It had barely moved since the last time she’d checked. There was less than an hour before the show started, and Clara had never once cut it this close. 

The door opened a little more forcefully than necessary, and an intense wave of relief swept over Argenta. She watched bemusedly as Clara’s reflection stomped into the room, flushed from the cold—and already in full drag. _That’s new,_ she thought, eyebrows arching in surprise as she rose and turned to greet Clara with a terse, “You’re late.”

Clara froze just inside the doorway, her wide eyes flickering to take in Argenta’s look. The expression on her face twitched briefly and then she laughed, a breathless note to it that made Argenta’s own breath falter. “I know, but I still have lots of time!” She grinned and set her handbag down, tossing her hair over her shoulder and blowing Argenta a kiss before asking teasingly, “Did you miss me?”

Argenta sniffed, pretending indifference. “Hardly. It would reflect badly on both of us for you to not show.”

Clara laughed again and turned quickly to the mirror, adjusting her wig and inspecting her makeup—and making no moves to take her coat off. This afforded Argenta a moment to study Clara openly. The coat itself looked fancy and far out of Clara’s self-professed price range, more like something Argenta herself might wear—a luxurious burgundy faux fur number that fell to Clara’s knees and showed no hint of what she was wearing underneath. Her makeup matched, a more-elaborate-than-usual, and festively warm, gradient of reds and purples on her eyes with a pop of rose-gold shimmer on the center of her lid, along with Clara’s now signature black cat-eye wing. Her lips were painted a similarly dramatic red. Clara had even attempted to style her wig a little tonight—Argenta could see hints of the fancy half-updo Clara had been going for. The actual result had turned out more tousled, like a nice hairstyle that had been mussed by an overly-amorous lover.

“What do you think?”

Argenta blinked, shifting her gaze to meet Clara’s in the mirror. There was something reserved, almost hesitant about Clara, which was highly unusual for her. “I think that handbag doesn’t go with that coat at all,” Argenta started, arching one haughty brow and letting her lips curve up in an amused smile at Clara’s snort. She added pointedly, “I also think you’re going to melt if you keep it on.”

“But I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” Clara protested, her eyes widening in faux shock in the mirror.

“Hmmph,” Argenta murmured noncommittally, rolling her eyes slightly and trying not to let on how curious Clara’s secrecy was making her. “If you don’t want my opinion on your outfit, at least let me get a good look at your face.” She stepped closer and took Clara’s chin in her hand, turning the girl’s face so she could see the makeup properly. Upon closer inspection, she could see the myriad amateur mistakes Clara had made, but it was still a marked improvement, and the addition of the shimmer had quite a flattering effect on the girl’s beauty. “It’s a very...festive look,” she finally acknowledged, releasing Clara’s flushed face with a slight nod. 

When Clara didn’t respond, Argenta turned away to fuss with her hair, combing her nails delicately through her long ponytail as if she hadn’t just done the same thing ten minutes ago. She wanted to ask where Clara had gotten such an expensive looking coat, but how to ask as neutrally as possible? Things had been so much easier when she wasn’t trying to be nice to Clara. “Are you...borrowing that coat for the night?”

“What, not gonna ask who I slept with to get it?”

“Forget I asked,” Argenta said primly, shooting her a look of bemused disgust. Next time, she would just stick with throwing shade.

Clara giggled and took a seat carefully, one leg crossed over the other. “Believe it or not, I found it in the clearance rack!” Argenta’s disbelief must have been written all over her face, because Clara gave her a mischievous smirk and clarified smugly, “Broken zipper, and the lining was coming loose. I’m surprised it wasn’t just tossed out.”

“It doesn’t look broken to me.” Argenta tilted her head curiously, gaze immediately going to the front of Clara’s coat, but if it was still broken, it was hidden cleverly.

“Oh, it’s not anymore.” Clara pulled a tube of lipstick out of her bag and leaned in closer to the mirror to touch up the edges carefully before adding, “My mom taught me how to mend broken zippers before I—” She cut herself off abruptly, wide eyes immediately darting to the side.

Argenta’s lips twitched in amusement as the girl’s cheeks flushed brighter. When it became clear Clara was floundering, she prodded gently, “Before you what?” 

Clara gave her a relieved look. “Before I, uh…came to Midgar.” She averted her gaze again, stuffing the lipstick back in the bag. “Said I should know how to do it myself since I wouldn’t be able to visit her much.”

“She lives far from Midgar, then?”

Clara gave a short nod and stood, clearly putting an end to that line of conversation. She smoothed her hands down the fur and turned once to inspect herself in the mirror, the satisfied smile on her lips almost catlike when she met Argenta’s eyes again. “Well, Rufus, ready to go down and give everyone a show?”

Now there was the Clara she was used to. Suppressing a smirk, Argenta’s eyes narrowed, and she pointed at the door. “ _Out,_ you saucy little tart, before I throw you out.” Clara just laughed and breezed into the hallway. Argenta followed in her wake, snorting under her breath and trying hard not to notice the extra wiggle in Clara’s walk.

They were a little early still. The bustle backstage didn’t even pause as Clara took her mark, and Argenta could see that the girl was practically full to brimming with energy, fidgeting with her sleeves. _This performance better be something special for all this fuss._ Argenta glanced around, and stepped up beside Clara after a moment, murmuring down to her, “Nervous?”

“Excited, mostly.” Clara took a deep breath and let it out slowly before grinning up at her, asking in a hush, “Do you...ever get nervous before a new performance?”

Argenta thought about that for a moment—her first instinct was to say no. She hadn’t really felt that way for a long time, most of her performances were tightly rehearsed before being debuted for the public. _Except for one._ “Not often anymore,” she said softly. “Only if it’s...an especially emotional performance for me.”

Clara’s expression softened and she nodded in understanding. She hesitated, opening her mouth to speak when Miss Kelly interrupted to inform them that Clara’s cue was coming up. Whatever she had been about to say, Argenta was positive it wasn’t the hopeful, “Wish me luck?”

“Break a leg.” Clara made a face at her, and Argenta smiled indulgently, making a shooing gesture as the first strains of Clara’s song began. The song Clara had chosen was one of the most popular Solstice songs released in the last twenty years. As far as Argenta was concerned, it had been performed to death, but she tried to hold her judgement, stepping curiously to the side of the stage to get a better view. Clara had proven to her last time that she could take something pedestrian and make it fresh, fun. 

Clara glided onto the stage like a wannabe movie starlet coming in out of the cold. It was a marked contrast to her usual high energy entrances, all graceful movement and coy smiles. She blew a kiss to a table in the front row as the intro came to an end, turning her back to the audience and throwing them a flirtatious wink over her shoulder. Argenta could see her fiddling with the coat as the music picked up, and tensed, worried that the aforementioned broken zipper might ruin whatever reveal Clara had planned—but her worry was unfounded. Clara whipped around, coat open to reveal a flattering purple halter dress underneath, one that showed a generous amount of cleavage and hit her at mid-thigh, flaring just right so that it bounced with every move she made. The coat slipped down to reveal one bare shoulder, Clara’s expression an ‘O’ of faux surprise before transforming into a cheeky grin, and she let the fur slide down her body before tossing it to the side.

Argenta’s mouth went dry as she watched the girl dance—it was still a Clara performance, with all of the energy and playfulness she normally brought to the stage, but tonight she was playing up her sensuality. She moved her body like she danced for one person in particular, extending her limbs in graceful motions, arching her back during a split, trailing her fingers up her throat or down her body in a show of intimacy that brought attention to curves or bare skin. Clara amped things up even more in the bridge, purposefully mussing her own hair in a way that suggested that her lover couldn’t resist her a moment longer, and slowly peeling out of her dress to loud cheers. Argenta’s eyes were drawn straight to Clara’s hips, shown off wonderfully with a pair of french cut panties in a deep burgundy, with black lace panels on the side and—oh gods and goddesses, an actual sprig of _mistletoe_ where a bow would normally sit. It was such a Clara move that she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she still inwardly cursed the girl as her mind immediately supplied an image of kissing—she scowled and shoved the image hurriedly away before it could embed itself, crossing her arms and resisting the urge to shift from the discomfort her tuck was giving her. Clara finished the song with a series of flirty twirls and high kicks before dropping into a backbend, the lacy fabric of her camisole settling over her body as she heaved for breath.

The audience was still cheering when the lights went down, and Clara hurried off the stage, a pleased grin on her flushed face. “How’d I do?” she asked, practically quivering in excitement.

“It was…” Argenta hesitated, a little lost for words as her gaze wandered unbidden down the girl’s toned body. Clara’s makeup was still largely intact, only a little bit smudged, her hair even more tousled than when she’d begun, and now Argenta understood exactly what Clara had been going for. How on Gaia’s green earth was she supposed to follow that in her current state? It was all she could do to keep her voice even as she said, “It was a nice performance.” She paused, smirking at the girl, “And I see you fixed your hip pads.” 

Clara laughed and ran her fingers through her hair, her body language changing to subtle preening as she rested a hand on her hip. “Oh yeah?” Argenta saw a brief flash of tongue against Clara’s bottom lip, and mischief danced in her eyes. “Glad to hear my efforts are appreciated.”

Argenta rolled her eyes and said dryly, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“What, I can’t enjoy this a little?”

“By all means, enjoy it as much as you want.” Argenta watched in amusement as one of the Honeygirls returned Clara’s discarded clothes to her, then turned her attention to her bracelets, double checking the materia chips embedded in them one more time in an effort to distract herself. At least her fans knew not to expect the same type of show from her—even despite her not being much of a body queen, normally, she had precious little to take off tonight. _They’re already getting enough of a show as it is._

“Knock ‘em dead, Shiva.”

Clara’s voice was so soft, Argenta almost didn’t hear it over the low hum that signalled her entrance. She cast a glance at Clara as she stepped regally past, faltering for one brief, breathless moment at the saucy wink Clara threw her way. She managed to recover smoothly, a determined smile hovering on her mouth as she took her place center stage, pulling a trickle of magic through the materia to set the gauzy fabric to billowing slightly around her body as a spotlight came up on her. 

* * *

The moment Argenta went out on stage, Clara shoved her armful of clothes into the hands of a passing Honeyboy and hastily asked him to take them upstairs for her, not even waiting for a response before hurrying away. She wasn’t going to miss a single second of Argenta’s performance, not this time. As she slipped towards the back of the room, a single spotlight illuminated the striking figure on the stage, and Clara could do nothing but stop and stare. 

The intricate piano intro that was steadily rising throughout the big room was beautiful and eerie, haunting. Argenta was proud and reserved, contemplative, embodying every inch the solitary ice goddess she looked like as she stood poised at the back of the stage as still as a statue. Her hair stirred and lifted, fanning out behind her, the delicate blue and silver fabrics draping her body billowing and twisting around her as if moved by the same breeze. There was a loneliness and yearning in the lyrics that enveloped the big room in a hush, only broken by a collective gasp when she finally extended one arm regally into the air and conjured a small flurry above her palm. 

Clara was transfixed, letting out a shaky breath as Argenta sent the sparkling ice motes dancing out in front of her and began to follow them across the stage, moving at first with cautious hesitance that spoke of venturing into new territory, but quickly gaining confidence. A joyful smile alighted on her face, and though Clara was sure it was just the light reflecting off of her hair and jewelry, and the pale highlights painted on Argenta’s skin, it looked like she was glowing from within as she began to dance—that inner light just happened to be radiating out into the audience. It was easy to get caught up in the story Argenta told with her body’s movements, every graceful step lighter and more fluid than the last, suffused with the delight and wonder of new discovery. By the end of the song, Argenta’s very demeanor had transformed. Gone was the reserved, lonely ice goddess—in her place stood a being fully in control of her power, looking free and happy as fine ice crystals swirled in the air around her.

Clara’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, her heart pounding hard as she joined the rest of the audience in cheering wildly. Only when the lights went out on the stage did she turn away, finally able to catch her breath. She started for the bar, shaking her head and unable to say anything but an awed murmur of, “Wow.” She mildly regretted not being able to see the performance all those months ago when Argenta had first debuted her Shiva look, but...well, she couldn’t complain about how it had all turned out.

“Excuse me, um, you’re Clara, right?” The voice startled her out of her reverie, and she turned around with wide, surprised eyes to see a dark-haired young man in a nice-looking suit giving her a hopeful look. “Clara Skye?”

Recovering quickly, Clara gave him a coy grin and nodded, trying to contain her excitement. No-one had ever tried to talk to her after a performance before. “Yeah, that’s me!” She rested one hand on her hip and eyed him, toying with the ends of her hair. “You like the show, mister…?”

“Oh! I’m, uh—call me Drake.” Drake’s gaze wandered down her body and lingered on her panties for a moment before snapping back up to her face, a blush staining his cheeks. Clara did her best not to smirk. “And I did. Very much. I—I like your...your style, and your dancing.”

“Thank you, Drake!” Clara beamed up at him, unable to resist playing up the flirtatious act when it made him blush and stammer even more. “I’m so happy you like it.”

Clearing his throat, Drake asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Clara blinked, glancing over her shoulder at the bar. She hadn’t been expecting that. She looked back at ‘Drake’ with a slight frown, practically hearing Argenta’s voice in her head threatening to dump his body in a dumpster if he tried anything. “Well…”

“I don’t want anything,” he said hurriedly, holding up his hands. “I just—well, I just wanted to take a picture with you, if that’s okay.”

Clara relaxed, giving him a relieved smile. _My first fan, holy shit._ “Sure! I can take a picture.” She couldn’t help laughing when he thanked her profusely, throwing her arm flirtily around his shoulders and giving what she hoped was her best smile as he snapped a selfie. He didn’t stop babbling happily at her the whole way to the bar, and once she had her drink, Clara took pity on him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for the drink – and for coming to the show,” she said brightly, trying not to giggle too much at the look on his face and she waved and retreated backstage, sipping on her cocktail.

She found Argenta in the dressing room, touching up her makeup in the mirror, and paused in the doorway to just admire the woman’s beauty for a moment. Seeing Argenta like this, now she wasn’t performing, just brought back the overwhelming feelings that had been plaguing her since she first arrived. _Fuck, why did she have to choose her Shiva look tonight?_ It was a ridiculous thought, there was no way Argenta knew who she was, and she’d obviously chosen this look because of the season, but Clara still _wanted._

“Are you going to come in and sit, or are you just going to stare?” Argenta asked archly as she put down her lip brush and turned her gaze expectantly to Clara.

Clara scooted into the room and took a seat beside Argenta, pretending to be unphased despite the blush she could feel warming her cheeks. “I thought goddesses were supposed to be treated with respect,” she said airily, glancing sidelong at Argenta. The unconvinced look on Argenta’s face practically screamed, _‘you? Respect? Please.’_ Clara giggled and stuck her tongue out teasingly at Argenta, earning herself an eye roll in return...and the hint of a smile beginning to creep at the corners of Argenta’s lips. Pleased, she dropped the flippant facade and said quietly, “That was a beautiful performance.” 

Argenta smiled slowly, her expression softening as she glanced away, clearing her throat. “Thank you, Clara.”

Clara stared helplessly, gripped by a powerful urge to just spill her guts right there, tell Argenta everything. Argenta clearly didn’t hate her anymore, and they were becoming friends, right? And she was going to miss Argenta when she had to leave—it was almost the holiday break, and they wouldn’t see each other for so long before their next show together. If she spoke up now, maybe they could spend some time together during the break. Argenta would understand why Clara hadn’t said anything at first...wouldn’t she? Or would she feel betrayed? Clara didn’t want her to feel like she was being taken advantage of or manipulated. Was it too soon? She hastily stuck her straw back in her mouth and sipped noisily, her gaze flicking downwards to study Argenta again as she agonized over what to do. This close, she could see now that some of the highlights Argenta had painted on actually had a subtle shimmer to them. _No wonder she looked like she was glowing. Fuck, this will haunt my dreams for the entire break._

“You’re staring again.”

Clara’s eyes shot back up to see amusement dancing in Argenta’s eyes, the brief flash of teeth making Clara want to squirm in her chair. _Not helping at all._ She was supremely grateful the straw was still in her mouth, or she might just have blurted out something embarrassingly personal. _I should keep my mouth shut until the end of the show, at least. Just in case._ She crossed one leg over the other and took another sip to steady herself, and, once she felt like she had a handle back on her emotions—and her hormones—she set her cocktail down and said in a bright, teasing voice she didn’t quite feel, “I was just looking to see if your makeup got smudged. But you’re perfect.” Clara could feel her face heating up again at the slip and grinned, trying to deflect. “So, are all your songs tonight going to have ice themes?”

Argenta blinked at her and closed her mouth, clearly rethinking whatever she had been about to say. “Perhaps.” Clara thought she saw Argenta’s eyes flick down for an instant, but in the next moment, Argenta was giving her a sultry smile and murmuring, “I suppose you’ll just have to watch and see.”

Clara’s mouth went dry. That tone—no way was Argenta flirting with her, she had to be projecting. “I’m not going to miss your performance for anything,” she said breathlessly, grabbing her cocktail and draining the glass before bouncing up. “Want anything? I’m getting a refill.”

“I’ll get something later,” Argenta said laughingly, her gaze intense on Clara.

Nodding mutely, Clara hurried out the door, toying absently with the bottom edge of her camisole as she started down the stairs. How obvious had she already been? She was surprised she’d managed to deflect as much as she had, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had enough willpower to keep her feelings to herself for a whole night...especially if Argenta kept looking at her like that.

* * *

Following her final performance of the evening, Argenta let the door to the dressing room close behind her and breathed a silent sigh of relief, fiercely tempted to remove the heels to ease her aching feet. She was quite certain that she had never been so distracted in her life as she was tonight, between Clara’s seeming aversion to putting any clothes back on and the girl’s determination to shadow Argenta for the entire evening. She was equally convinced that the intensity she had danced with had been fuelled by her frustration over the whole affair. And really, could she be blamed for needing Miss Kelly to repeat a question when there was so much controlled chaos backstage? It wasn’t like she’d been obvious about being distracted by Clara’s smile.

Clara tottered over to the divan and sank down onto it in a sprawl, somehow managing to not spill a drop of her drink even in her inebriation, and Argenta’s gaze lingered on Clara’s shapely legs for a long moment as the girl wiggled happily into a more comfortable position. She privately wondered how Clara still had so much energy, and how many drinks she was up to now, but the fact that she’d still been able to make it up the stairs by herself in her heels—a little unsteadily, perhaps—suggested that Clara wasn’t too far gone yet. Besides, she decided as she sipped at her own cocktail, walking over to the divan as well, she was much more grateful for the chance to unwind a bit.

“Come now, don’t hog the prime real estate, Clara,” Argenta said, nudging Clara’s hip gently with her knee. She determinedly kept her gaze on Clara’s face and forcefully shoved the lingering thoughts of mistletoe out of her mind, hiding her smile behind the rim of the glass when Clara rearranged herself with only a teasing pout. The space the girl left her was hardly adequate, but she rolled her eyes and sat anyway, one leg crossed primly over the other and hyper aware of how her thigh pressed up against Clara’s. “I suppose this is fine.”

“Just fine?” Clara asked, waggling her eyebrows at her with a smirk. She pushed herself up to sit, nearly sloshing her drink in the process, and declared with a giggle, “I’d say it’s _more_ than fine.” She tilted her head slightly. “Damn, this couch is small.”

Argenta held her breath, struggling to keep the expression on her face neutrally unimpressed as Clara was suddenly pressed much closer than before. After a moment of fighting to slow her heartbeat down to a more normal pace, she said, “A little space, please, Clara?”

“But you’re so cozy.”

 _And you are extremely tempting._ Argenta looked away with a cough, uncomfortably aware of the flush rising in her cheeks.

“Mmm, and you’re nice and warm.” Clara’s voice had dropped to a low murmur. And she hadn’t moved away. In fact, Argenta could feel the girl shifting closer. “Really warm for an ice goddess.”

“Clara—” Argenta began sternly, her eyes narrowing.

“You know,” Clara interrupted brightly, peering up into Argenta’s face with a mischievous grin. “I think you should have really given everyone a show tonight and taken it _all_ off, grandma _._ ” Argenta stiffened in surprise at the bold suggestion, and Clara pulled back to deliberately look her up and down in a way that suddenly had the room feeling far too hot. She took a sip of her cocktail, keeping her eyes on Argenta’s as she said in a teasing drawl, “Should’ve shown off aaaaall of that sexy body.”

Argenta stared at Clara in shocked silence, unsure of how to react. Not many people had ever talked to her like that—even as the Silver General, very few people would dare to be so casually forward out of the sheer terror of being disrespectful, and Clara’s comments were nearly as impudent as they came. But not unwelcome, from her. It was...actually, it was refreshing in a way, Clara’s unwillingness to back down, to treat Argenta like she would anyone else. Her gaze dropped to the expectant smirk on Clara’s face and she hesitated, wetting her lips in an unconscious display of uncertainty. Then the full phrasing finally clicked in her brain, and she gave Clara a severe frown.

“Did you just call me _grandma_?”

Clearly, that had been the reaction Clara was waiting for. The girl burst out laughing, only narrowly managing to keep hold of her drink. It wasn’t enough to keep some of the alcohol from splashing out, narrowly missing Argenta’s hip.

“Clara!” Argenta fought down the urge to laugh and scowled at her instead, supremely tempted to shove the brat off the divan. “You shady little bitch!” It would serve her right, slipping that barb into the middle of such a suggestive comment. _Does Clara really want to see me naked?_

Clara shook her head and continued to cackle, leaning heavily on Argenta’s arm for support. She didn’t seem to mind when Argenta shook her off, sliding down onto the floor and leaning her head back against the seat to grin up at Argenta. “The look on your face,” she wheezed unself-consciously.

With a disgruntled sniff, Argenta hastily brought her glass to her lips in an attempt to hide her smile, draining her drink. She was not going to give Clara any encouragement.

Clara giggled again, poking at her knee and murmuring fondly, “I saw that.”

“Get back up here and stop being a brat,” Argenta countered, rolling her eyes and extending one long nailed hand for Clara to take. She hauled the girl up effortlessly, grateful when Clara gave her a little more space this time. Not that she had minded the closeness from before, but she could use the breathing room. Argenta eyed Clara critically, rising to fetch a packet of tissues from her purse when it became clear that Clara had gotten splashed in her...exuberance. She wordlessly passed a tissue to the girl and settled back to relax with a contented sigh, giving Clara’s soft ‘thank you’ a tiny smile in response.

Clara didn’t say anything else, and they passed a number of minutes in comfortable silence while Clara finished her drink. Argenta found herself sneaking more and more glances at Clara, marveling over the sentiment of the girl’s sassy comments. _Clara thinks I’m sexy._ The thought brought a smile to her face, and with it, the urge to slide her arm around Clara’s shoulders, to be closer.

The moment was broken when Clara staggered up from the divan, giggling under her breath as she stumbled and righted herself, peering at the clock. “I should...get dressed, huh?”

 _Do you have to?_ The words were on the tip of Argenta’s tongue, and she nearly said them out loud before catching herself. Damn it, she was getting careless. “It is getting late, I suppose,” she said softly, watching with slight concern now as Clara shimmied awkwardly back into her dress. Clara was moving with the kind of careful concentration that only came from being too tipsy to be terribly coordinated, but sober enough to be aware of it. That wasn’t the best combination to be traversing the streets of Wall Market this late. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Clara have that last drink—no, she shouldn’t think like that. Clara could make her own decisions.

Argenta rose from her seat with a quiet offer to help, fighting down her disappointment when Clara waved her off with barely a look and instead retrieving their coats. She wordlessly handed Clara’s over, silently laughing at her behavior—Gaia help her, but she was acting ridiculous. If she wanted to spend more time with Clara, she should just ask. “Clara?” Clara looked up curiously from zipping up her coat and Argenta had to take a shallow breath before continuing softly, “How are you getting home?”

Clara gave her a sweet smile, still looking a little confused. “Uh...train?”

Argenta nodded and gazed down at Clara for a moment, her expression softening. “I...of course.” She reached out to gently take hold of a stray lock of hair that had come loose, her fingertips barely brushing the outer shell of Clara’s ear as she tucked it back in place, trying to ignore Clara’s hushed intake of breath. “I can...get my driver to drop you off at the station,” she offered, pausing at the startled look on Clara’s face before pulling her hand back. “If you like.”

“You would...do that? Really?” Clara asked breathlessly, her eyes wide as she searched Argenta’s face.

Argenta nodded, unable to hold back a smile when Clara let out the most adorably pleased squeak she had ever heard come out of a human being. That sounded like a ‘yes’ if she’d ever heard one. How could someone be so alluring _and_ endearing at the same time? “I take it that’s—”  
  
“I can’t.”

Argenta froze, her smile faltering. Clara had been whispering, surely she couldn’t have heard that correctly. “...Pardon me?”

Clara winced. That in itself was all the answer Argenta needed, but she could do nothing but stare as the girl swallowed hard around the words, practically having to force them out. “I—I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“...Oh.” Argenta nodded numbly and stepped back, giving Clara some space. “I...it’s fine.” It certainly wasn’t _fine_ , the rejection stung, but Clara didn’t need to know that. And it changed nothing about her desire to make sure the girl got home safe. “Come on,” she urged quietly, turning away and scooping up her purse. “If you miss the next train, there may not be another for over an hour.”

Clara made a soft noise behind her, but Argenta didn’t look back, just held the door open for her. Without another word, Clara sighed and wrapped her arms around her middle, hurrying out of the room and down the stairs ahead of Argenta. She followed along behind, trying to figure out if she had said or done anything to offend Clara, but by the time they reached her carriage, she could come up with nothing.

Clara paused at the edge of the carriage and looked up at her hesitantly, seeming to consider something. Finally, she just gave Argenta an apologetic smile, offering a sincere, if awkward, “I...Happy Solstice, Argenta.”

Argenta almost considered not replying, but one look at Clara made her relent with a sigh. She didn’t want to send the girl off looking like she was about to cry. _It was probably for the best that she said no, anyway._ Stiffly, she murmured, “Happy Solstice, Clara.” Clara’s smile brightened just a little, soothing some of the ache she felt, enough that she was able to give Clara a small nod but not quite able to smile back. That seemed to satisfy Clara, her steps lighter as she continued towards the station, picking her way carefully across the cobblestones.

Argenta watched her go, one hand on the door handle, waiting until she couldn’t see Clara anymore to climb in. “Be safe, Clara,” she whispered, settling back against the cushions and glancing consideringly around the interior as the carriage began to move. It turned out it wasn’t a tight squeeze by any stretch of the imagination, but neither was it particularly spacious—Argenta was very quickly forced to conclude that sharing the space with Clara, after the teasing comments she had made, might have been either very awkward...or very pleasant. 

Closing her eyes, Argenta couldn’t help but smile as she recalled how Clara’s voice had sounded, calling her sexy. Sharing her carriage with Clara would _definitely_ have been inappropriately pleasant.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to share this part just for fun! The song Cloud is listening (and singing along to) in the first scene is “Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)” by ABBA, and Tomas decided to be funny and say ‘somebody call Roche to give him a good lay.’ XD


End file.
